


Dead Man's Hand

by hurricanesinmysoul



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Gen, High Noon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurricanesinmysoul/pseuds/hurricanesinmysoul
Summary: Work's hard when the men you chase are old hands at cheating the law.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the world of the High Noon and Western-style skins.  
> EDIT: 04/13/2018 - Re-reading this, I don't like Jhin having a Western accent, seeing how he's from a different place (Ionia) and likely uses more formal sounding language. changed his dialogue.

“What would ya like?” the older woman behind the bar asked. She was wiping the inside of a mug, watching him.

“Two fingers of whiskey, ma’am,” Khada Jhin answered, sitting down in the stool. His spurs whirled when they brushed against the rest.

“That’s a mighty big gun you’ve got on yer back, son.” She noted, face impassive as she poured his drink.

He chuckled lowly behind the bandana covering his lower face. “There’s some mighty big trouble out there, ma’am.”

He heard the shuffling of cards in the back quiet down. Hell, nearly the whole saloon went quiet.  _Heheh. Found you._ Jhin lowered his bandana to down his drink. It burned nicely.

“Well, don’t want none of that trouble _in here,_ you understand me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, madame.” He pushed the glass back towards her. He then stood, moving towards the back table, where several men were playing poker.

“Deal?” the dealer asked, raising a brow at him.

“No, that won’t be necessary, sir,” Jhin waved him off, “I don't plan to be here long.”

“You ain’t from around here,” one grizzled farm-owner remarked, glaring at him from his seat as the dealer went back to shuffling.

“No, sir, I'm nott. Passing through for business.” He replied.

“What kind of business?” the old man demanded, obviously upset. It was clear to see who was winning, and it wasn’t him. The young man chewing on a stem of wild grass had that honor.

“On my way to Ionian country. Looking for someone.”

“Who’s that?” the younger man asked, not looking up from his cards yet.

Jhin smiled, cold and cruel behind his bandana. “A certain Tobias ‘Twisted Fate' Foxtrot.”

The other man went totally still.

“Now, Mister _Foxtrot,_ perhaps we should take this outside. After all, the lady _did_ say she didn’t want trouble in her lovely little establishment.” Jhin inclined his head toward the door, though it wasn’t really a suggestion. All the men seated at the table were eyeing the two of them, and if he wasn’t mistaken- and he _never was-_ he heard many unlocking the safety of their pistols.

“Well, damn.” The card shark chuckled. “I s’pose ya can’t run forever.”

“You certainly can’t. Let’s handle business like gentlemen, shall we?” He waited for the wanted man to stand and grab his bag, pulling it on, before stepping out.

His long leather duster blew in the wind of dusk, and he held his hat tight to his head. Jhin drew his pistol, pointing it straight at the man’s back.

“Dead or alive?” ‘Twisted Fate' asked, moving to the middle of the street and turning slowly.

“It didn’t specify. You’re in luck; I happen to prefer alive. There's no beauty in a quick shot.”

“Beauty?” the outlaw lifted an eyebrow, growing a little unnerved by the masked man. Even his eyes were hidden; only shining orange lenses gleamed back at him.

“There’s something downright beautiful in the way you kill a man. Do it quick- well, there's no effort in that. After all, people just die so _easily,_ don’t they? No, a true masterpiece requires effort. I like to take you bounties alive; don’t mean you  _stay that way._ ”

“That’s creepy as all hell.”

“Don’t fucking care.” he lifted his gun to press threateningly against the base of his neck, leaning in to whisper. “How would you like to do this? Quiet, or loud as the devil?”

“I’d prefer not at all.”

“Funny, that wasn't one of the options.” He tilted his head slightly. “You’re coming with me, and if I have to lose out on a work of art I’ll be cross, but- hell, what can you do? A man’s gotta live. I can find someone else. Like your friend Malcolm. He’s on my list too. If you come with me, you can sit in a cell and wait for him- settle your differences before I kill you both, you know?” Jhin offered. “I’m nice like that.”

Fate smiled, all sharp and smart like. It made the bounty hunter narrow his eyes.

“Naw, Graves ‘n’ I don’t need nothin’ like that.”

“How come?”

“Well, I’m sure you can figure that out yourself.” He laughed once right as a cloud of smoke burst around Jhin’s feet, blinding him.

The bounty hunter coughed, unable to see through the haze. He snarled once, lunging in the direction the man had been standing, but there was only empty air. He holstered his weapon with a growl, patiently waiting for the wind to blow the smokescreen away.

Once it did though, the street was empty.

Khada Jhin was a patient man. Art needs patience. A masterpiece isn't created in one afternoon. Chuckles began to build in his throat, growing loud and maniacal as they echoed across the dust streets. “Fabulous!” his chuckles continued unhindered. After a minute or so, he turned back to where his horse was tied. “Alright, puppets. Get ready to _dance_ for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> *loud snorts* DJhingo Unchained


End file.
